Elijah Heron

Eli and Sonya's Apple Crumble Recipe

Step 1: Peel and chop apples into cubes.

Elli Crane hefts the basket of apples into the kitchen and begins to prepare them. Although the sagging tree in the back garden yielded hundreds of fruit, most of them are small and pocked. Elli grumbles when an apple slips from her grasp.

Her grandparent (“Grandy”) Eli always had more patience than her. She hadn't appreciated how much more until nine years ago, when a strange person had knocked on their door and explained that they were Grandy in a different body. By then, the family had already heard about the fire. Granny Sonya was incensed.

“I should have let you go instead,” she had muttered to Elli.

Step 2: Mix flour, sugar, and salt. Rub butter into mixture.

The mixture fluffs under Elli's hands. It was Granny who had seen past the new body into the soul within, who had known for certain it was Grandy inside. Elli hadn't been so sure. Who was this fiery individual, who wrote scathing articles and spoke on radio shows, who barely spent more than a few days at home before hopping on another train? The Grandy Elli knew grew flowers in the garden and had only left the Commune once, fifteen years ago, to visit a peach orchard.

Elli could barely look at them during those early days. Her dream was to work for Alusia, and Grandy had - literally - stolen it from her. Although her rational side told her that Alusia was rotten, and Grandy wasn't the only one who had exposed it, all she could think about was the omission of a single letter. It should have been me.

Step 3: Mix fruit with brown sugar, flour, and cinnamon.

What made things worse was Grandy's real body. Elli was happy for the Bookworm - Violet - but that didn't remove the crawling feeling she got every time she saw a photograph of Grandy beaming in a way she'd never done before. The body swap was a reminder - not of selfless sacrifice, but a deep bitterness that stained decades.

Grandy was willing to leave behind everyone who loved them for the sake of vengeance. From Elli's first words, to her first computer program, to her first inkling that she wanted to work for Alusia, Grandy had been stewing in resentment behind their smile.

It was a relief to everyone that Grandy could be buried in their own body.

Step 4: Spoon fruit mixture into dish. Sprinkle crumble mixture on top.

Newspaper columns, talkshows, interviews, then finally, a book. Now, everyone knows the story of Dr. Elijah Heron, the scientist whose work on biophotonic decarbonisers was plagiarised by Alusia. The ghost writer had plucked away Grandy's excessively technical language and crafted a tale of struggle, justice, and sacrifice. It was so entertaining it was untrue. Did they really need to rename Elli's chickens for the book? Neon, Argon, Krypton, Xenon, and Radon worked just as well as those flower names.

Elli smooths the apple pieces evenly across the dish. The night Grandy returned, she had explained everything to the family - how they left Dr. Elijah Heron behind and started afresh in a new Commune as Eli Crane, refusing to tell anyone about their history, aside from Granny Sonya. They explained the ticket forgery, their quest for revenge. Elli remembers it well. Her shock and anger had propelled her out of the family home and into her friend's house, where she stayed for several nights before she could face Grandy again. Although she eventually enjoyed discussing Grandy's research with them, the twist of betrayal never left her stomach.

Step 5: Bake for 40-45 minutes.

Elli paces in front of the oven. It all came back to patience. Dr. Elijah Heron waited almost fifty years for their revenge. Elli Crane can barely make apple crumble without wanting to leave the room in frustration. How many crumbles had Granny and Grandy made? Elli recalls Grandy's veined hands deftly peeling apples, Granny's habit of listening to the crumble to tell whether it was baked.

In the media, Granny Sonya had been portrayed as the doting wife. But Elli knew better. What kind of person would choose to harbour another's secrets for decades?

“She was hurting, Elli,” Granny had explained, “I told her we'd share the hurt and build a life together. So we did. Why burden our children with past wrongs?”

Soft brown peaks and bubbling craters form on the crumble. Elli doesn't agree with her grandparents' decision to let the past simmer under the surface. But there is one thing she admires. For fifty years, Granny Sonya had chosen to lie, again and again, so that her spouse could live without being reminded of their past.

Elli recalls her fateful conversation with Granny, the one that took place across the threshold of her friend's house. It was the morning of the third day after Grandy returned.

“Why did you let Grandy go instead of me?”, Elli had asked.

Granny just shrugged.

“They needed it. This time, I felt they could do something right.”

Elli runs her fingers over the handwriting of the crumble recipe, Grandy's tense and jagged, Granny Sonya's rounded and careful. The timer beeps; she removes the dish from the oven, carving a piece onto a plate with a helping of custard. She grabs a spoon and places the plate in front of her guest, who carefully samples a bite.

“Tastes just like we made it.”

Granny Sonya smiles. Elli imagines how she would have smiled at Grandy Eli long ago, with less wrinkles but no less sparkle. Yes, that smile would have said, yes, I'll stay with you. Even if you wear a different face, I'll still recognise you. I'll carry your secrets to my grave, and my bones will rest easy alongside them. Let me have you, let me hold you, as you shall do to me. Let us be one, you and I.

For every lock needs a key.

Written by Esther L.